


all i want for christmas is you

by vandoorne



Category: twoset violin
Genre: Flirting, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandoorne/pseuds/vandoorne
Summary: eddy gives brett a pillow with his face on it that readsstroke to get an A 440for christmas. brett wonders if there are other things that he can stroke to get an A 440. like eddy himself, for example.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 7
Kudos: 85
Collections: WIP OLYMPICS: WINTER 2020/21





	all i want for christmas is you

**Author's Note:**

> because [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=leV9njlEhnM) happened and it has rendered me no thoughts head empty.

'If you wanted me to touch you so badly, you could've just asked.'

Eddy looks up so quickly that he's pretty sure that he heard a cracking sound from his neck. Brett is standing in the doorway of his room, holding the pillow he had just given him. 'It's a pillow,' he says too quickly, tripping over his words. 'You're supposed to touch the pillow,' he follows up. Congratulations Eddy Chen, way to give a Christmas present that opens up a potential world of awkwardness with Brett Yang.

'Really. Stroke to get an A 440,' Brett says, raising an eyebrow. He looks at the pillow in his hands, then back at Eddy again. 'Stroke.' He runs his fingertips across the pillow, where Eddy's face is printed on it, gaze fixed on Eddy the entire time.

'Ahh,' Eddy sings automatically, cheeks flushing. His cheeks are turning red and it's all because of the sweater he has on, and not because of anything else. It's far too warm in his room, he should've switched the air-conditioning on, or taken the sweater off, whichever. Sure, he had been mildly embarrassed in front of the camera when he had revealed the gift because, hey, it's cringe worthy, right? It had seemed like a good idea when he had gotten it printed, but after Brett's reaction... No no no no no. Him blushing right now has _nothing_ to do with Brett's reaction or whatever the hell Brett just did. The instructions on the pillow were _stroke to get an A 440_ and Brett had done just that. Right? Right.

'So I should keep stroking this pillow for an A 440 then?' Brett asks.

'What are you trying to tune,' Eddy answers, laughing nervously. Fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck. Something about the way Brett is looking at him throws him off completely. He swallows hard and fuck, is Brett actually advancing? Moving closer? Eddy feels like he should be backing away but there's nowhere for him to go, given how he's already on his bed.

'Would you like to find out?'

To be perfectly honest, Eddy had no idea just what exactly he had been expecting when he had printed the pillow. Whatever he had expected, however, had most definitely not included how he might possibly end up with Brett Yang in his bed, bent over him, knees bracketed by his thighs.

'What are you doing?' Eddy asks, looking up at Brett. Is it an obvious question? Brett's leaning in, bracing himself with his hands against the headboard and oh, fuck.

'You asked what I was trying to tune,' Brett says, settling down in a comfortable position between Eddy's thighs. The pillow has been discarded by now, and Brett reaches out, trailing his fingers lightly across Eddy's cheek. 'So if I stroke here, would I get an A 440 too?'

' _What_ ,' Eddy replies, flustered. He jerks backwards, knocking into the headboard, alarmed by Brett's sudden touch.

'You don't even need perfect pitch to tell that's not an A 440.'

'Ahh,' Eddy sings again, incredulous. Did Brett just... Oh fuck. What the fuck. Is this... Is he...

'What about here?' Brett asks, fingers moving lower, down Eddy's jaw, to his neck, stopping above the neckline of Eddy's sweater.

Fuck. There's no way Eddy's going to be able to get out of this, is he? It's either follow through or... Or what? 'Ahh,' Eddy sings again. His heart is pounding hard and fast against his ribcage, as if Brett's touch had been a direction for _accelerando_ for it to hammer its way out of Eddy and present itself to Brett.

Wait a minute. Fuck. Oh god. Fuck.

Brett hums, fingers skimming past Eddy's chest, down his stomach, all the way to...

 _Fuck_.

'What about here then?'

Eddy almost chokes on his saliva, feeling Brett's hand touching him through his clothes. Fuck, Brett had barely even touched him and that had been all it took for him to get all hot and bothered. 'Brett!'

'That's not an A 440,' Brett says, hand not moving, still cupping Eddy's erection through the fabric. 'Or am I not supposed to stroke here?'

'Ahh,' Eddy chokes out, voice cracking. Oh, the embarrassment.

'Doesn't sound accurate,' Brett teases, pressing down harder now. 'Do I need to stroke directly then?'

Eddy groans. Fuck it then. He reaches for Brett's wrist, wrapping his hand around Brett's. 'Would you want to?' he asks, unsure.

Brett grins. 'Why not?'

It's one thing to fantasise about or to imagine Brett Yang touching you with the same sort of reverence he might have with his violin, but here Eddy is with Brett's hand wrapped around his cock, and Brett's fingers are a light touch on his skin. His hands are fisted in his bedsheets and he has nothing on except for his sweater, jeans and underwear lying in a pile by the foot of his bed. Brett, however, remains fully clothed, and he's watching Eddy's expression intently.

'Is this too much?' Brett asks, rubbing a thumb over the leaking slit of Eddy's cock. There's wetness all over, and Brett doesn't even wait for Eddy's response as he continues to touch him.

'Fuck,' is all Eddy can respond with, and it doesn't even come out properly. It comes out as a cross between a whimper and a moan because fuck, if Brett continues to touch him like this? Sure, he's sensitive when it comes to physical contact but this, oh fuck, this takes the fucking cake. He's definitely not going to last.

'You're not giving me an A 440,' Brett says, voice shaky. He's stroking faster now and Eddy groans, reaching to clutch at Brett's shoulder. 'Or does it feel so good that you can't give me an A 440?'

' _Brett_.' Eddy's voice comes out as a plea, fuck, he isn't even sure what he's begging for like this but whatever it is, the one thing he's absolutely certain of is that he doesn't want Brett to stop.

'You're doing the laundry,' Eddy complains afterwards, looking at the state of his sweater. Brett had jerked him off, and of course when he came, well, let's just say that things had to go _somewhere_ , but for this to happen... Fuck.

'Since you've already dirtied it, why don't you just take it off then?' Brett asks, smirking. 'And well, here's another present back to you,' he continues, gesturing to the pillow lying on the floor. 'Now that I have better things to stroke to get an A 440.'

Eddy groans, burying his face in his hands in embarrassment. He's never going to live this down.

'I should've gotten you something though,' Brett says, sounding sheepish now.

'All I want for Christmas is you,' Eddy says in a rush.

Brett snorts, thinking of the cover Eddy had recorded on his own. He leans in, pressing his forehead to Eddy's, and their glasses clink against one another. 'I'm right here,' he says.

'I'm glad,' Eddy says. He smiles, tilting his head up to press his lips against Brett's and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> let's be friends? hmu on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/_vandoorne) i'm shdhdjdjdjdj ;;


End file.
